Boats, beers, BWIs, and blackouts

What a great weekend. It rained, then it was sunny, then a freakin' monsoon came, then it was sunny again, and finally it rained some more.
I got to the lake Friday afternoon before my mom and stepdad. The landlord for our cabin met me in the driveway. He's an anal prick. Dickhead asshole. I don't like him much. Mainly because he told me my dog couldn't stay there.
Nice to know that now that I've driven 4 hours and spent bookoo dolla for fishing gear, license, and cases of beer.
So I drove around and looked for relatives or friends who would keep my stinky little dog. No such luck. Then I got drunk. Real drunk. And I cursed the bastard landlord and his entire family for all they were worth. From a safe distance, of course. I decided the best course of action was to keep Mak with me and hide him in my duffle bag. It worked.
My mom got drunk with us. Really drunk. It was great. I always wait until she's shitcanned to tell her stories from my youth. The stories she doesn't want to and should never really hear. Thankfully, she never remembers them. I just like her reactions. They're priceless.
Then she puked in the sink and passed out. I love my mom. She doesn't remember a thing.

That was Friday. Saturday was a beautiful day. Sand, sun, beers, and boats. Memorial Day weekend is a big time down on Lake Sam Rayburn. My stepdad cracked open the first beer of the day at 9:45 in the AM. It was all downhill from there.
In the late afternoo, I drove a jetski into the aforementioned monsoon. It was dangerously entertaining.
Later, the guy who let me borrow his jetski would be arrested for BWI (Boating While Intoxicated). He was busted because there was a cooler full of beer strapped to the front of his Waverunner. Apparently the cops don't like that. Who knew?

When the monsoon tore into our little campground, I was sitting in a 20' X 12' metal building with two beautiful women and my dog. Then the lights went out. For 2 hours.
There is a God and he/she loves me very much.

Some friends of mine had towed a pontoon boat down to the lake for another friend, Jack. Jack was suppose to meet us Saturday evening. He never showed up. Not a big deal.
We'll just tie the boat up and wait out the storm, right?
Wrong. No one tied the boat up and the storm blew the boat away. Away from our camp. To God knows where.

So the better part of Sunday was spent searching the lake for the missing pontoon boat. Sam Rayburn is a huge lake. Massive. Hours of searching and gallons of gas later, someone noticed the missing boat hidden behind some bushes not 300 yards from the camp. How did we miss it? I don't have the foggiest idea, but thank the good Lord we found it before Jack knew it was gone.

Then we went to watch the boats race at Sandy Creek. That's where the Coondog Punch was being served. Also the same place where my recollection of Sunday's events ends.
I awoke this morning with a mouthful of BBQ sunflower seeds in my mouth, a half-empty Lone Star in my hand, and a smoldering Black and Mild on the porch beside me. I guess I had a good time.

Now I have to go play softball. I must admit that life is good and I love my friends and family. As long as I keep hanging with these people, I'll have plenty of stories to tell you guys.
And a big thank you to all the brave men and women who've served this country in the military. It's because of them that I can act like a retard and get away with it. God Bless the USA.

Also, we never once went fishing on this trip. After realizing this, I walked down to the water and made a few casts. Not a bite. Not a nibble. Glad I spent $40 on the fishing license.